


A Lion in the Woods

by WhyTheRobin



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Dimitri goes through it, Gen, Near Death, Pre Release, Pre-Time Skip, first kill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 14:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19477777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyTheRobin/pseuds/WhyTheRobin
Summary: On patrol, a young Dimitri is attacked. After killing the attacker, he's forced to process the situation. He comes to a decision that seems inevitable.Written pre-release





	A Lion in the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> Oops I added to the Dimitri angst whoops. Also I wrote this before the game came out, so it's definitely not canon compliant.

A Lion in the Woods

It feels good.

After the initial shock fades—and it does fade—his hands stop shaking. The blood on his face is warm, and it’s warm on his hands too.

He’d been shivering on his patrols earlier. His blue cape was not made for insulation, and his gloves were only a thin leather that did not protect from the cold. When the man attacked him he was loud, raving, and _predictable._ Dimitri ended to the fight quickly.

It was like a training drill. Man comes running. He leaves his core exposed, arms wide. Dimitri plunges his lance into the straw dummy’s stomach, leverages it to the ground. He pulls the lance back. Straw flies. Stab again.

Reset exercise. 

He hadn’t expected his hands to shake so much. Or the blood to be so warm. Or the stunted screaming.

But he had stopped shivering.

He hisses as he exhales, a cloud of vapor following. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath to begin with. His hair is getting longer, sticking to his forehead with grime and sweat. Both his eyes blink, and the body under him is still dead.

And…he’s smiling.

“Dimitri!”

Sylvain’s voice. Far away.

It registers in the back of his brain behind the thrumming of his pulse.

It’s a frantic sound, a sound of worry and surprise. A sound of old friendship.

The smile wipes away, fast.

A friendship that was nearly destroyed had these soldiers had their way. And if they had cut him down, would they have cut through Sylvain too? Sylvain with his red hair and infectious grin?

What about Felix?

Ingrid?

Bile rises in the back of his throat. Had he not volunteered to go on patrol, others could have died. He nearly died. His friends. His countrymen. The thought of these brigands masquerading as soldiers tearing through his encampment both sickens and infuriates him.

But he stopped them. He did.

The corpse is still staring at him with the same horrified expression, mouth gaping and eyes bulging, and neither can look away. But Dimitri is better at composing himself, better than anyone else could ever believe. He can hear the shakiness in his breath, and he stills it. For Sylvain. For himself.

Sylvain’s horse rears back when Dimitri suddenly stands, yanking his lance from the corpse with an odd sucking sound. “I’m alright,”

“Easy, easy,” his friend shushes his mount. He must maneuver the reins to keep it in place, the beast desperately hoofing the ground trying to flee, tearing up dirt and scattering mud.

“It’s not my blood,” he offers, hating the way his voice quivers. A lion should not be quivering. This is what they were meant to do.

Dimitri finally looks over, and Sylvain has no blood on him. No blood on his horse, either.

Dimitri is thankful.

Has he even noticed the body? Sylvain isn’t looking at it, even as he tugs the reigns to turn around. He presses his heels into the horse, willing it into place. His eyes are wide, but he’s only staring at Dimitri.

“They came from the east,” The prince’s voice pierces the cold, smoother than before.

Sylvain’s response is muffled, still sounding far away.

“These soldiers, they attacked from the east,” the prince says, “they were a scouting party,”

The realization forces his feet to move from under him automatically, turning, and moving further into the trees. His ears don’t hear the words Sylvain tries to tell him, and that numb feeling begins to set in again as he works through the thought. It’s cold where he used to be warm. So cold.

There are others in the woods. Others who would attack them.

The horse lurches into Dimitri’s view again, spurred on with a kick. Leaning forward in his saddle, Sylvain is trying to say something to him. His lips move quickly, and his eyebrows are set into place. Faintly Dimitri can hear him demand to get on the horse, to ride back into camp with him.

But if he does it’ll be too late.

“Go to camp and rally the soldiers, I’ll meet you out here. Bring close range fighters. They weren’t expecting close quarter combat,” Fools. They would all be alive if they hadn’t tried to attack him. They could have fled back to their tents and thrown down their weapons, but they didn’t. 

Dimitri had to-

He had to-

“The other scouts will notice one of their own is missing, and once they realize that, we’re dead.” Dimitri says. He knows it's the truth. Scouts run back to their leaders, bringing back the full thunder of whatever troupe they align with. They'd swarm from the trees like wasps from a hive.

Unless there are no scouts left.

Dimitri continues to trudge his way through the mud, uncapping a vulnerary with his teeth. Sylvain doesn't move.

“Where are you going, Dimitri?” Sylvain asks, voice finally coming through as Dimitri passes around him. 

His senses sharpen as he drinks the liquid down, fingers itching against his lance. He’ll protect them. Only he can.

“I’m going hunting,”

**Author's Note:**

> Welp I wrote this in about an hour, so I hope it's not completely incomprehensible. If you enjoyed, feel free to kudo/comment :)


End file.
